Lorna Irvine takes a leap of faith at the Arches.
Theatre at its finest is a leap of faith—not in the religious sense, but of faith in humanity.
So strip away the sepia Victorian world created by Francis Gallop, with its portraits of 19th century magician William Henderson, the inspiration behind Rob Drummond and David Overend's metaphysical theatre show.
Omit the dolorous cello music, the set-up, the audience's nervous laughter, the sweats, the bravado, the knowing look in performer Drummond's eye when he states that Freud's notion of survival instinct hung on the initial question upon meeting someone: “Can I kill it? Can it kill me? Can I shag it?”
Get rid of the philosophy of Victorian nihilists who believed life was essentially bereft of meaning or purpose—a real trick played upon all of us: transient and disposable; of examinations of free will versus the power of suggestion.
Remove the mouth drying, jaws-dropping and ears covered, the anticipation of mind-reading, a levitating chair, a smashed bottle, or the ultimate parlour trick of parlour tricks: an audience volunteer (tonight it's Andy, a likeable chef) selected for sensitivity and precision, ready to squeeze the trigger of a gun and aim it directly at Drummond's mouth.
Eliminate all of this and what is left is Rob and Andy, nose to nose and vulnerable, neither performer nor audience member but just two men, connecting with trust. That is what makes Bullet Catch so thrilling...taking that leap of faith.
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